


Pactum Daemoni

by Lady Adain (pocketTherapist)



Category: Bleach
Genre: Alternate Universe - Demons, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Day 3, Demon Deals, Demon/Summoner AU, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Past Torture, UraIchi Week 2018
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-03
Updated: 2019-04-27
Packaged: 2019-05-17 20:30:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 9,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14838659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pocketTherapist/pseuds/Lady%20Adain
Summary: Aizen has won. The Resistance is failing. Kisuke has no other choice.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Let's do things all out of order, shall we?
> 
> UraIchi Week 2018, Day 3: Something!Ichigo, Something!Urahara, Supernatural Elements AU
> 
> As ever, feedback and constructive criticism deeply appreciated.

Kisuke puts the finishing touch on his summoning circle and takes a moment to review his work. It's easily his greatest creation to date, and he can only hope it'll be enough. The Vaizard are throwing themselves at Aizen in a hopeless battle to try to buy him the time for this, and he knows it's forbidden but he's an exile already, he's their last chance, if he does this he probably dies and if he doesn't they all do.

 

The exchange component is flawless, beautiful, and would revolutionize his entire field if he had ever managed to publish it. The runes for life force and power lie across from each other on the crucible, swirling with the command lines into the center of the blood - dawn circle. If this works right-- and it will, he cannot afford otherwise -- it will exchange everything he is, his magic, his mind, his very  _ life _ , for the most powerful summon he is worth. Kisuke isn't in the habit of self deception; he's powerful and he knows it, but he's not enough to beat Aizen. He might be enough to buy the attention of someone, something, who can. 

 

He grits his teeth as the building shudders. They're out of time. Kisuke refuses to allow himself to think about what he's doing, surges forward and slams his bloodied hands against the outer edge of the circle, feeding it as much energy as he can without overloading it. He feels the instant something takes interest. A tendril of energy searches back along the veritable flood he's pouring into the circle, feeling for the parameters of the summoning. The traditional contract is built into the circle itself -- accepting the summons will seal the contractor bond. 

 

And then the being on the other end accepts. 

  * ●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●



 

Kisuke has summoned a  _ monster. _ Higher - ranking demons are usually more humanoid than the lower, brainless ones, but this… this is something entirely  _ other.  _

 

It's taller than the average human, white with red tufts on wrists and ankles, but there are three things that really catch Kisuke’s attention. First is the long, dragon-esque tail lashing behind the demon, curling around its clawed feet. Second is the long mane of bright orange hair, streaming in some invisible wind. Third and finally are the massive, forward facing horns that could pierce right through Kisuke and still extend a foot beyond his back. 

 

The building shudders while he and the creature are still appraising each other, and then the staredown is broken by Shinji. Literally. The Vaizard goes flying through the wall and slams bodily into Kisuke, knocking both of them sprawling. Neither has time to get up. 

 

Aizen drifts idly through the wall, planting one foot easily on Shinji’s chest and settling the tip of his blade between Kisuke's collar blades. Kisuke freezes, but Aizen isn't looking at him. Instead…

 

“ _ What,  _ pray tell, is  _ that?” _

 

The question is obviously rhetorical, so Kisuke doesn't bother to answer. Aizen is happy to monologue away, regardless, as Kisuke tries desperately to think of a way out. Until the contractor breaks the circle, though, the summons is trapped. It's for the protection of the summoner, to ensure that a demon doesn't try to kill the summoner before a contract has been enacted. Kisuke had managed to tie the contract to the summoning itself, but the circle is still binding. 

 

Aizen is still studying the demon with intense interest. For its part, the demon seems mostly unaffected, cold golden eyes still following Kisuke. It's unnerving, but he also knows that it's entitled to stare all it wants at its next meal. Kisuke just needs Aizen dead first, preferably before the slowly increasing pressure on Shinji’s chest snaps any more ribs. Unfortunately, he has no idea how to dissolve the circle without touching it, and he currently has a blade digging into his throat. 

 

Finally, Aizen gives a dismissive shrug and looks back to Kisuke.

 

“A fascinating specimen. It is a shame it will disappear with your death. I shall have to manage with only the circle you've used. No doubt it will teach me much.”

 

The blade draws back, readying itself for the final blow, and Kisuke knows that Aizen is deliberately dragging it out, looking for any hint of the fear Kisuke has always refused to show him. 

 

A sound _ rips _ through the air and Aizen spins, an exclamation of disbelief already forming on his lips, just in time to see the signature purple curtain of a summons circle finish being torn in half. From the _ inside.  _

 

  * ●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●



 

Kisuke will treasure the look of horrified denial on Aizen’s face for the rest of his severely shortened life. He barely manages to move his sword an inch before a taloned hand wraps around the megalomaniac’s entire neck at sixty miles an hour. Kisuke can only assume they hit one of the pillars on their way outside, because it belatedly crumbles about three seconds after Aizen and the demon exit through the wall, creating a new Aizen-shaped hole next to the Shinji-shaped one. 

 

Shinji rolls onto his side, spits a glob of blood out, and says very calmly, 

 

“What the fuck.”

 

Kisuke can only manage an exhausted shrug. 

 

“No, really, what the fuck. The  _ hell _ did ya summon? What did you even offer to  _ get _ something like that, yer immortal soul?”

 

Kisuke blinks tiredly at him and Shinji stiffens.

 

“You  _ didn't.” _

 

There's nothing to say to that, not really. What other option was there? If he didn't,  _ everyone _ was going to die. Compared to that, what was one life? 

 

“Kisuke, you absolute  _ imbecile _ , tell me ya didn't offer yourself as payment.”

 

“Do you want me to lie?”

 

“I'm going ta kill ya. Forget that, _Yoruichi_ is going ta kill ya.” 

 

Shinji sounds almost like he's choking, and Kisuke pushes himself up onto his elbows to make sure the older man hasn't punctured a lung or something. Instead, though, Shinji is pushing himself to his feet. 

 

“Well, come on. If you're gonna summon a powerful-ass demon at the cost of yer life I at least want ta see it take Aizen apart before it takes me apart for trying ta stop it.”

 

That gets a reaction out of Kisuke, even though he knows that's what Shinji was aiming for. 

 

“You  _ can't, _ contracts are binding and you couldn't stop this thing anyway, not if it really can kill Aizen.”

 

Shinji shrugs. 

 

“Well, I knew going inta this that the chances of coming out were slim. Now come  _ on.” _

 

Kisuke, horrified, lets himself be dragged outside while he splutters and tries to convince Shinji that this is in fact a horrible idea and only one of them has to die today. Once they're actually outside, though, all words are lost as they witness the most brutal beatdown either of them have ever seen. 

 

They're just in time to watch the demon stop a desperate swing with his bare hand, pluck the offending weapon from Aizen’s grasp, and casually snap the sword in half. 

 

Shinji  _ cackles _ . 

 

“Oh my god, this is  _ so _ worth everything. I might just have ta forgive ya.”


	2. Chapter 2

Aizen has seriously miscalculated. He knows precisely how strong he is, how strong everyone who might have challenged him is, even taking into account the way Urahara has a tendency to manage things no mage of his strength should be able to, but this… this is impossible. 

 

Aizen has contracted with demons both lesser and greater. He's summoned the most powerful spirits the world has seen in a thousand years, made contracts worth thousands of lives. And yet, the spirit Urahara has pulled from his idiotic hat simply  _ dwarfs  _ anything Aizen has ever heard of. It shouldn't be possible. This level of strength is a full order of magnitude higher than the strongest of the greater demons. 

 

For the first time, a frisson of fear works its way down his spine. What the  _ hell _ had Urahara offered it? Aizen wants to rule the world. Now, he wonders if the scientist has destroyed it instead. It seems like something the man would do, to ensure that even in his victory Aizen gains nothing but ashes. 

 

His sword is shattered and the demon isn’t even bothering to dodge his spells, brushing them off as if they’re minor annoyances instead of massive works that would leave a lesser mage on the verge of burnout. His summons are long gone, the Vaizard having tag-teamed even the strongest of them into dispersal. 

 

He flings himself backwards in a desperate bid for time even as his mind races. He’s going to be the next ruler, he can't die here, he  _ can't--! _

 

A clawed hand grips his throat, hauling him off the ground and giving him a far too intimate view of long, vicious horns. A surge of pure magic ripples through the air and condenses, forming a swirling ball of energy between the monster’s horns. 

 

There's only time for the sinking realization that he's  _ failed  _ before his world dissolves into light. 

 

  * ●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●



 

Hiyori and Mashiro have just finished dragging Kensei over to Hacchi’s position, keeping an eye out for where Aizen and Shinji had disappeared to, when a bone-shaking roar tears through the sky. They tense, reaching for remnants of power they have already spent. Surely Aizen cannot have yet  _ another _ trick up his sleeve? They've exhausted their last reserves for this, just trying to buy Urahara enough time to manage his last-ditch effort. If Aizen has more to throw at them… 

 

Well, it was a miracle they’d all survived this long, to be honest. 

 

Hiyori braces herself in front of Mashiro, who’s hovering worriedly over Kensei as Hacchi works. If anything tries to get to them, it’ll have to go through her first. True, it won’t take it much effort, but maybe she can buy them an extra instant or two to run.

 

(Maybe, though, maybe she just doesn’t want to watch them die.)

 

Then a long streak of white and orange comes shooting out of nowhere, resolving itself into a bone-white demon who proceeds to throw Aizen around like he's a chew toy. 

 

Is… is that what Urahara had meant by “one last try?”

 

She tears her eyes away from the mesmerizing spectacle long enough to see Shinji and Urahara climbing wearily toward them. Neither looks too badly injured. 

 

Trying not to catch anything's attention, and by anything she means the seven-foot-plus demon, Hiyori flags them down and gives Urahara her best unimpressed glare. 

 

“You useless idiot, if you had something this powerful up your sleeve before, why the _ hell _ didn't you use it?” 

 

She would probably try to kick him, but she really doesn't have the energy right now. 

 

Kisuke rubs the back of his head in a gesture she hasn't seen from in in years, a sheepish smile surfacing. 

 

“Ah, see, I wasn't really sure it would work, you know.”

 

Hiyori growls and takes a step forward. He's not lying, but that's definitely not the whole truth either. She's gonna _ smack _ the truth out of him if that's what it takes. 

 

To her surprise, though, Shinji cuts in with a dark glare. 

 

“And because of the cost.”

 

Something goes hard and cold in her chest. Shinji looks… pained, legitimately upset, and there shouldn't be any reason for that, not with Aizen being thoroughly dismantled in front of them. Kisuke looks almost resigned, though and that worries her more. When she finally manages to speak, her voice comes out flat. 

 

“What cost?”

 

Kisuke looks away. 

 

_ Fuck. _

 

Before she gets a chance to demand an explanation, though, a rush of magic drags their attention back to the one-sided fight, if it can even be called a fight at all. 

 

Aizen dies without fanfare, as easily as any other human. No sooner has his charred corpse hit the ground than the demon is inhaling, drawing in the rising swirls of Aizen’s power before it can disperse back into the natural environment. 

 

Hiyori hears a quiet “shit” from Shinji’s direction. Demons grow more powerful by consuming the energy of their chosen prey. Aizen was… Aizen had been one of the most powerful mages in centuries. 

 

If there was anything she can safely say this demon  _ doesn't _ need, it's more power. She doesn't know what its contract is, but she trusts that Kisuke wouldn't let it come after them in a feeding frenzy. 

 

Then the demon looks over at them, following golden eyes fixating unerringly on Kisuke, and Hiyori’s heart freezes in her chest. 

 

No, Kisuke wouldn't let a demon devour them. 

 

But if he had nothing else to offer…

 

It would be just like him to offer himself instead. 

 

With a quiet  _ punch _ of displaced air, the demon is standing in front of them. Hiyori and Shinji almost trip over themselves in their haste, but in the next instant they're braced in front of Kisuke, weapons at the ready. 

 

Oh, god, they're all going to die. 

 

  * ●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●



 

Aizen is dead. Kisuke fixes that in his mind. Aizen is dead. The world is safe. His  _ friends _ are safe. That's the important thing. 

 

If only his hands would stop shaking, though, giving him away for the coward he is. 

 

God, he wishes he'd left Yoruichi something more than his flimsy farewell letter. If he had more of an afterlife to look forward to than an eternity of being slowly consumed for energy, he'd half expect her to hunt him down and kick his ass just for that.

 

The demon appears in front of him and Kisuke does not flinch. Instead he squares his shoulders and takes a deep breath. He's on the verge of stepping forward, though, when he's cut off by two blond heads placing themselves protectively in front of him. 

 

Shinji  _ almost  _ manages to keep his voice from shaking as he snarls at the massive white figure. 

 

“No. Ya can't have him.” 

 

Self-sacrificing idiot. Kisuke reaches up and grabs his shoulder before he can piss off an insanely powerful being even more, murmuring urgently at him.

 

“Shinji, please, just take the others and get out of here. They need you. Do you really want to get them  _ all  _ killed?”

 

It's a low blow and Kisuke knows it, but it's also one of the only arguments he has that might force Shinji to reconsider. 

 

And still, the demon just watches him. At least it hasn't attacked Shinji or Hiyori for defying it. Yet. It’s precisely as unnerving as he would have imagined it would be, had he ever thought about it. 

 

At least it’s not looking at the imbeciles trying to stand between Kisuke and certain death. 

 

Finally, it moves, stepping forward and brushing aside Shinji and Hiyori with a massive clawed hand, uncaring of their weaponry. Kisuke braces himself, standing his ground despite the fine tremor running through his muscles. 

 

Instead of reaching for him, though, it tosses Aizen’s charred corpse at his feet. 


	3. Chapter 3

Kisuke doesn’t know what to make of this, but the demon is giving him an expectant look, clearly waiting for something. Perhaps it is waiting for acknowledgement of its completion of its end of the bargain? 

 

It’s the hardest thing he’s ever done, but he steps forward, over Aizen’s corpse, and sinks to his knees at the demon’s feet, tipping his head back to bare his throat. 

 

He hears a desperate, “Kisuke,  _ no! _ ” from Shinji, but there’s no time to dwell on it, because the demon tilts its head, leaning forward into Kisuke’s space with something that might be curiosity, and then it scoops Kisuke up into its arms entirely. It takes off without a sound, skimming through the air as easily as if it were merely walking, but the rush of noise in his ears belies how quickly they’re moving. A small, hysterical part of him wants to  _ laugh _ at how gentle his new owner is being, but he ignores it in favor of remaining entirely still, hardly daring to breathe, his heart jackrabbiting in his chest. He’s being pressed against a broad chest that feels less like skin and more like bone, as if the demon has an exoskeleton made entirely of bone. The massive talons on the draconic hands and feet appear similarly osseous, and Kisuke firmly diverts his thoughts from how easily they could rip through skin and flesh. Not thinking about it won’t  _ save _ him, but he knows from experience that working himself up before torture even begins is pointless; he may as well save his energy.

 

In spite of himself, though, Kisuke can feel his breathing wavering with pure terror, the trembling throughout his body escalating into panicked shivers. That gets the demon’s attention. It stops dead, standing casually on thin air, and looks down at him, taking absurd care not to injure him with wickedly sharp horns. If the grinning-skull of a face could express emotion, Kisuke might think it bemused. Or possibly excited. He knows that demons feed on fear and pain; it’s likely that his own terror is just hungering the monster. 

 

A single long claw comes up, and Kisuke can’t control his flinch, but the demon just rests it against his forehead, and his world goes black.

 

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

 

Kisuke wakes up in what can only be described as a nest. He stirs sleepily, exhaustion weighing heavily at his mind and limbs. He’s curled in his own sheets, pillows and comforters strewn about him, and  _ is that Tessai’s bathrobe? _

 

A soft rumbling sounds from behind him, and Kisuke shifts enough to look over and then freezes, coming face to face with the creature he’s sold himself to. The demon looks rather pleased with itself, lounging next to him like an immense cat in the patch of sunlight the nest has been built in, a contented chirr issuing forth from its chest as it watches him patiently. Kisuke remains frozen, stilling like frightened prey before a hawk. 

 

What is proper protocol when in the presence of the being that owns you, Kisuke wonders a little whimsically, his hindbrain gibbering in terror even as his mind races. He’s not injured--hasn’t even been touched, as far as he can tell, simply deposited in a soft...well,  _ nest _ . Carefully, he starts to sit up, only for the demon to finally move. A massive hand flattens itself over his chest and presses him effortlessly back down into the blankets, a deep growl tearing from behind the grinning, skull-like teeth. Glowing golden eyes stare down at him as the monster looms, and Kisuke forgets how to  _ breathe _ under such an intense look. 

 

As soon as it becomes clear that Kisuke is, in fact, not going anywhere, the displeased growling ceases. Kisuke resists the urge to grimace, but obediently remains flat on his back, arms at his sides. It goes against every instinct he possesses, remaining vulnerable to such a creature, but it’s not as if he could have done anything to defend himself against such overwhelming power even if he  _ wasn’t _ owned by it now. And he is owned, there’s no doubt about it--he can feel the magical bonds tugging at the back of his mind. The contract is in full effect now. 

The demon looks him over once, appraisingly, and Kisuke can’t repress the shiver that runs through him. It’s kneeling over his hips, straddling him, and he forces himself not to flinch when it starts tugging at his haori. It’s not  _ unexpected _ , but he had been hoping for a reprieve. It takes more willpower than he would have expected not to beg--not only is it pointless, it’s no longer his choice. The cloth gives easily enough under its claws, exposing his chest, and Kisuke swallows, closing his eyes. He knows what it’s seeing, the deliberate patchwork of scars from the very man it had eaten. 

 

The absolutely  _ furious _ snarl it lets out speaks for itself, and Kisuke flinches away violently, making an abortive movement to protect himself. It doesn’t strike him, though, doesn’t tear into him or dig its claws into his unprotected chest and stomach. Instead, it traces a careful talon along the deep furrows in his side, and Kisuke shudders at the unexpected gentleness. He doesn’t  _ understand _ , doesn’t know why it isn’t just taking its pleasure from him, why it’s not already feeding on his agony. 

 

Then a feeble little fireball splashes against the demon’s back, and it whips around with a territorial growl. 

 

“Leave Urahara-san  _ alone _ , you monster!”

 

Ururu and Jinta stand in the doorway, looking equal parts terrified and determined, and Kisuke feels his heart freeze in his chest. They’re not  _ his _ , he’s only caring for them after their parents died in the war, but they may as well be, and he doesn’t think he can bear to lose them. 

 

He reaches forward desperately, unsure what he’s going to do, but he’s too slow. The demon is already standing in front of them. Jinta swears, shoving Ururu backwards, and Kisuke  _ throws _ himself forward, not quite making it to put himself between them, landing in a crumpled heap adjacent to the demon’s feet, prepared to beg, plead, offer  _ anything but them, please, not the children…  _

 

And then a massive, taloned hand drops onto each small head, and gently ruffles their hair. 

 

There’s a long pause as everyone stares at everyone else in utter confusion. Everyone except the demon, that is, who remains utterly unfazed. It makes a contented chirring sound at them and then softly pushes both children out of the room. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, it's something, and it's up. I'm sorry for the infinite wait. And the quality. I rewrote this so many times, oh my god.

Kisuke drops his head to rest it on the floor, partially in gratitude and partially in the sudden aftermath of averted disaster. His breath escapes him in a rush, adrenaline leaving him shaking. 

 

How are they even in his house, anyway? He'd warded the entire place before they'd left; not even Aizen would have been able to get in. The kids should have been  _ safe.  _ And yet, here he is, with a demon perfectly capable of eating all of them. 

 

Perhaps it's just not hungry, after consuming Aizen's power, but Kisuke is grateful for its mercy regardless. He hopes the brats will have the good sense to get out and signal Shinji to come get them. 

 

In the meantime, the demon has slid the door shut and turned to him, and Kisuke abruptly remembers that he's alone and half- dressed in a room with a demon he just tried to  _ stop _ . He straightens, shifting unconsciously into a proper  _ seiza _ , hands fisting on his thighs. Without his consent, his breathing quickens, accelerating towards a proper panic attack. 

 

He hasn't had one in  _ weeks _ , too focused on things deemed more important, like survival. Of  _ course _ he'd have one now, shivering helpless in front of the most powerful being he's ever met. 

 

A wave of self loathing rushes through him as he bows forward, trying to slow his breathing. He has given up control of literally  _ everything _ , leaving him only his self control as a small measure of comfort, something not even Aizen had been able to strip away. And now even that has abandoned him. 

 

Something that might be a sob tears itself from his hoarse throat, interspersed with his body's gasps as it tries to regulate his oxygen intake. He's hyperventilating, he knows, and if he doesn't gather a modicum of control, he'll end this by passing out. 

 

How pathetic. 

 

Vaguely he realizes that the demon is still standing in front of him, that Kisuke is shuddering at its feet like the thrall he is. His overwrought mind spares a thought for his punishment, then skitters away in abject terror. A slave attempting to control its master would never be tolerated. 

 

That thought alone almost paralyzes him with terror. The demon chitters at him, but rather than strike him, it rests a surprisingly gentle hand on his shoulder and urges him to his feet. It points him at the makeshift nest, and Kisuke shuffles obediently over to it, sinking down into the soft blankets. The demon chirrs its approval and leans over him to press him down onto his back. Kisuke braces himself as best he can, abruptly aware of his partially unclothed state and the vulnerability that entails. Instead of remaining over him, though, the creature turns and heads for the door. Raw terror streaks through him, and he starts to shove himself upright. 

 

The massive demon turns back and _ snarls _ , a magically reinforced order to “stay.” Kisuke falls back against the blankets, pinned by the contract, as the demon casually exits the room into the rest of the house. 

 

Where the children likely still are. 

 

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

 

Shinji has just finished making sure all the Visored are healed as well as they can manage. They want to go after Kisuke, none more so than him, but he has a responsibility to make sure everyone else is safe first. He's entertaining a vague idea of regrouping at the Shouten, maybe trying to contact Yoruichi and Tessai.

 

Naturally, this is when the little sigil inked into the inside of his wrist starts to burn-- the Shouten’s panic button. Which means the kids are in danger. 

 

_ Fuck. _

 

He's never seen the group move quite so fast, exhaustion and injuries notwithstanding. The kids aren't theirs, but they may as well be. Everyone tumbles to a stop at the edge of the wards-- even they can't get in unless the wards are unlocked from the inside.

 

It's Ururu who comes to let them in. 

 

She  _ isn't  _ panicking, and since everything  _ except _ the truly dire panics her, it's a good sign that the adults should in fact be panicking. 

 

Turns out, there’s a demon in the house, past the wards, and it’s got Kisuke, which is both a relief--because Kisuke is here, and alive--and  _ utterly terrifying _ , because nothing should be able to get past the wards, and how did the demon even know how to come here?

 

Of course, then it wanders out of the room, sans Kisuke, and everyone goes for their weapons even though they don’t have a chance in-- _ hah _ \--hell. Jinta throws himself away from where he’d been listening at the door, and Lisa jerks him behind her with a feral hiss. Ururu ends up tucked behind Kensei and Mashiro. 

 

The demon doesn’t seem overly impressed by the sudden, bristling hostility of the room. It barely even stops to look around, actually, before it gently-- _ gently!!-- _ moves Rose’s sword aside and heads into the kitchen. 

 

There’s a single instant where no one breathes, waiting for Tessai to materialize in all his wrathful glory to smite the intruder, but he fails to appear, and the Visored stand around making confused faces at each other while a demon hunts through the kitchen for something. 

 

Finally, Mashiro shrugs and wanders over, dodging Kensei's panicked grab, and sticks her head through the entryway. 

 

“Hey, mister demon, what are you looking for?”

 

All noise ceases, and then a frustrated rumble floats out of the cabinet the demon currently has its head in. It withdraws and looks at her, and makes an unintelligible screech-chirp. 

 

Mashiro has no idea what that's supposed to mean. But! It's clearly an attempt at communication. She can work with that. Besides, there's only really one thing people want in a kitchen. 

 

“Food? Are you looking for food?” 

 

She points to her mouth, then her tummy.

 

The demon stares at her for a second, then nods rapidly, making the same noise as before. Mashiro's vocal chords aren't quite built like that, but she gamely tries to make the sound back at it. 

 

They go back and forth a couple times, like it's trying to fix her pronunciation, before Love apparently decides that he's utterly done with this farce and sheaths his sword, pushing past Mashiro and digging into the fridge. 

 

He pulls out a leftover bowl of curry and shoves it in the demon's direction, expression perfectly blank. Probably wondering what the fuck all their lives had come to, that he's offering their leftovers to an impossibly powerful demon in their kitchen. 

 

The impossibly powerful demon in question takes the bowl carefully--nevermind that it's a large storage bowl; it looks hilariously small in those massive talons--and sniffs at it with suspicion. Evidently, it passes inspection, but rather than eat it, the creature turns and heads back towards the door it came from, stepping past Love and Mashiro without offering any sign of aggression. 

 

It slides the door open, slips through, and shuts it firmly before anyone can process what the fuck just happened. Then Hiyori throws herself at the door with an enraged howl, only to slam into some sort of ward and bounce right back off, unharmed. Undeterred, she screeches after the demon anyway.

 

“You can’t just  _ keep him  _ you know, he’s ours too!”

 

Shinji stifles a snort. 

 

“Well, tha’s one way to put it. But, hey, I guess it ain’t hurtin’ him for now. Lisa, you know any way to, uh, unsummon a demon without beatin’ it? ‘Cause, heh, I’ll give it a shot, but I  _ really _ don’t think that’s a great idea.”

 

Lisa straightens abruptly, reenergized with the idea of something to  _ do _ , some way to help, and they all head for Kisuke’s archives. If he survives long enough to kill them for breaking into his collection, Shinji’ll be content. 


	5. Chapter 5

Ichigo slides the door shut and turns back to his mage, the odd stew balanced carefully in one hand. The man is flat on his back in the nest, bleeding terror and pain and resignation into the air, so thick Ichigo can  _ taste _ it. He’s making little gasps, like repressed sobs of fear or pain. Ichigo tilts his head in confusion. He isn’t injured, Ichigo  _ checked _ , even with all the scarring. Ichigo doesn’t think those came from battle.

 

He lets out a low, inquisitive rumble, only to immediately regret it when the man flinches away from him, breath hitching. He needs to fix this, needs to make it right, but he has no idea how. He has food, though! Or whatever passes for food, up here. He’d considered going to find some animal or something, but if he remembers correctly, humans tend to have...adverse reactions to fresh meat. So he’s got something from the cooking area. He lowers himself to his haunches and sets the container on the floor, sliding it carefully toward his mage, rescinding the previous order as he does so. It wasn’t that he’d  _ wanted _ to make him Stay, but the mage needed to be safe and protected and  _ rest _ , and worrying about things wasn’t going to help him at all. 

 

Ichigo’s charge stares blankly at him for a long moment, his fine hair turning to platinum in the sunlight he’s lying in. Then, carefully, he sits up. 

 

“Did you… did you bring me food?”

 

Ichigo nods enthusiastically, taking care to keep his horns away from anything even remotely breakable. They're really starting to get in the way, impressive though they may be. 

 

“Why would you feed me? Why would you even  _ care,  _ I'm just… I'm yours, you own me, I am literally  _ food.  _ I can't… I won't ask you not to, not for me, I knew what I was getting into, but  _ please,  _ don't hurt the children. I can't offer anything more than I have, just…”

 

Ichigo goes carefully,  _ carefully, _ to his knees across from his charge, leaning forward but being intercepted by the horns of his armor. With an annoyed huff, he dismisses the armor entirely--he should have done this earlier, really, but he was a bit distracted taking care of his human. 

 

It’s always a bit odd, watching the bone claws to melt away into nothing, revealing soft, blunt fingertips. He has to shift a little as his tail vanishes, too, leaving him in a decent approximation of a human form. Most importantly, though, he can  _ touch  _ now. Ichigo hums quietly, hearing the higher, softer pitch to it. Gently, he reaches out a hand and sets it on his mage’s shoulder, hoping to distract him from the panic that seems to be overwhelming him. Ichigo could just knock him out again, but that would be...inconvenient. And rude, probably. 

 

Luckily, it works. The mage glances at the hand on his shoulder, tensing as if to stop himself from jerking away, but then freezes and sits up entirely to stare at Ichigo with wide eyes. He’s stopped hyperventilating, but he’s also mostly stopped breathing entirely, which is probably a bad thing. It feels weird on this face, but Ichigo attempts to smile encouragingly at him. 

 

The mage remains frozen for a second, then takes a slow, deep breath and says blankly, 

 

“You turned into a human. A naked human. You turned into a  _ naked human. _ I don’t… that’s not…  _ You can’t do that! _ ”

 

He sounds almost hysterical, and Ichigo reaches up to stroke at the man’s soft hair. It feels like silk to his sensitive fingertips, and the man goes still beneath his hand. Ichigo makes an approving rumble, his fingers still threaded through silver-blonde hair. Experimentally, he pets the mage’s head, tugging him forward so that the man’s head rests on Ichigo’s own shoulder. Finally the man sags against him, as if too exhausted to fight any longer.

 

♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧

 

Kisuke understands nothing. His exhausted mind has run itself out, leaving only a sort of quiet static behind. He's kneeling on the floor, curled into a warm, soft shoulder. It's… nice. He hasn't really been able to tolerate touch since, well, Aizen, but this isn't bad at all. He drifts for a while, only vaguely aware of a hand stroking through his hair. Perhaps he ought to be offended by being petted like a dog, but honestly, he'd mostly given up trying to be of worth, even before he'd sold himself. It feels almost like he’s valued, cared for, and he clings to the sensation even though he knows it’s not going to last. 

 

He also has  _ so many questions. _ He’s too far gone to try to parse them right now, the sort of exhausted he only gets after a sleepless week of research, when Tessai or Yoruichi or Shinji has to come drag him out of the lab. With a tired little sigh, he sinks deeper into the not- currently demon’s embrace. 

 

Whatever happens, happens. He's too tired to care anymore. 

 

He sleeps. 

 

When he wakes, he's being held. He’s lying curled in the soft nest, a warm arm draped over his shoulder and a gentle breath on the nape of his neck. For all the vulnerability the position entails, Kisuke feels impossibly safe. He breathes deeply against the knot in his chest, unwilling to let his master know that he’s awake, but the being behind him has already stirred. Kisuke turns to look at a sleepy, nude, apparently-human with long amber hair and golden eyes. It--he, apparently--yawns in protest and drapes himself over Kisuke’s back, resting his chin on his perch’s shoulder with a sleepy murmur. 

 

“Noooo,  _ sleep _ .”


	6. Chapter 6

Kisuke blinks, long and slow, processing. 

 

“Ah, demon-san, I’m feeling a bit better now. Might I get up?”

 

The demon uncurls, catlike, and releases him in favor of stretching deeply, arching his back and releasing a deep rumble of contentment.

 

Taking this for the tacit permission that it is--turns out, growing up with Yoruichi has its benefits when it comes to translating demon-cat-dragon-whatever behavior--Kisuke sits up, stretching out his own joints, grimacing against the ache in his bones. Yesterday had not been particularly kind on them, even before he’d got it in his head to summon...whatever this is. 

 

The bowl of curry is still sitting where the demon had left it, and Kisuke feels the nearly overwhelming urge to laugh at the ridiculousness his life has become. Cautiously, he asks, 

 

“Where are the others? Are they-- well?”  _ Alive _ , he doesn’t say.

 

The demon nods laconically, still sprawled in the puddle of sunlight. 

 

“Yes. The green one and the star-shaped one assisted me with food. The little angry one is still trying to get in here. It has been several hours, but they are still yelling.”

 

The demon sounds faintly baffled, as if utterly perplexed by Hiyori’s behavior. Which, fair, most of them are confused by Hiyori on a daily basis, but Kisuke can actually explain this one.

 

“I believe she’s worried about me, demon-san. They fear what you might--do to me, I suppose.”

 

The demon sits up fully at that, eyeing him curiously.

 

Kisuke swallows hard, unsure of his boundaries here but determined anyway.

 

“Might I see them? It might reassure them, a bit.”

 

The orange head tilts slowly, then nods, and abruptly noise filters in from the outside world again. Kisuke can hear the tail end of Hiyori--who is, in fact,  _ still _ going at it.

 

“...you orange bone freak! I’m going to take you apart in little, tiny fucking pieces, when I get in there, and then I’m going to  _ stomp _ on them! If you’ve hurt him, I swear,”

 

And then she breaks off entirely, tumbling through the door as she throws herself at it again.

 

The demon looks at Kisuke’s stunned face, Hiyori’s stunned face, and bursts into helpless cackling. 

 

That breaks Hiyori out of her stupor, at the least. She whips around, pointing a finger in his face, and then stops dead as she realizes that she’s not looking at a demon, but a naked,  _ very attractive _ male lounging in a patch of sun.

 

The resultant implosion does absolutely nothing to quell the demon’s laughter. It does, however, draw the rest of the Visored to the door of Kisuke’s room, where they all crowd for position, jockeying to see who gets in first. 

 

Mashiro screeches in delight and flings herself bodily at Kisuke, ignoring the demon completely. Hiyori is still staring, face bright red, spluttering faintly, and the other Visored join her with varying degrees of horror (Rose, Love), confusion (Kensei, Hacchi), and blatant interest (Shinji, Lisa). The demon, in turn, looks back without an ounce of shame, appraising each of them. Mashiro sits up from where she’s bowled Kisuke over and glances back and forth between the other Visored and the demon, a little furrow growing between her brows. 

 

“Um, mister demon, should you maybe put something on? I don’t mind, but some of the others are a little distracted.”

 

The demon glances down at himself and gives a laconic shrug before waving his hand through the air and, apparently, conjuring itself a deep blue yukata out of absolute nothingness. 

 

Kisuke can practically hear Tessai in the background, wailing about conservation of mass. 

 

Naturally, before anything can get settled or sorted out properly, a knock echoes repeatedly through the house.

 

_ Thunk. Thunk. Thunk. _

 

Everyone looks at each other for a long moment without moving, then Kensei goes,

 

“Anyone going to answer that?”

 

Mashiro bounces to her feet easily and darts past the others, only to be stopped by Love, who catches her with an arm around her waist. 

 

“Shouldn’t the wards be up?”

 

They all look at the demon, at that, who blinks back at them with something approaching badly done innocence.

 

“The wards are  _ fine _ , I just went… around them.”

 

Considering the wards exist in a full sphere around the house, this explanation makes no sense, but they don’t get time to ponder this, because,

 

“Besides, that’s probably just my lieutenant. It’s been, what, half a day? He’s probably gotten bored.”

 

Confusion continues to abound. Eventually, the demon just sighs and pushes to his feet. 

 

“Fine, I’ve got it.”

 

He walks out of the room, and Shinji takes the brief absence to check Kisuke over.

 

“Yer all right? He hasn’t hurt ya or… done anything, right?”

 

Kisuke nods, still bewildered by the lack of torment but willing to bear with the status quo for now.

 

“No, he’s just--fed me, and kept me in the nest. And possibly looked me over for injuries, now that I think about it.”

 

Shinji snorts.

 

“Leave it ta you ta find the only demon in existence that doesn’t actually want ta eat yer soul.”

 

His humor utterly fails to mask the relief in his voice. Finally, he turns and starts shooing people out of the room, Visored scattering before him like leaves in the wind.

 

Right about then, the demon wanders back in with someone else at his heels--a brown-haired, languid looking man with the telltale hole of a demon in his chest. The newcomer ignores everyone, making straight for the nest and curling up there.

 

Shinji looks like he’s wishing he had his sword at hand. 

 

Kisuke just sighs. Apparently, his life is a madhouse now. He resigns himself as best he can, and bows politely to the new demon. 

 

“Good day. My name is Urahara Kisuke. Who might you be?”

 

The man opens a lazy, ice-blue eye to stare at him.

 

“Starrk. So you’re the human ‘s got Ichigo all worked up, hm?”

 

Kisuke wishes  _ desperately _ for his fan.

 

“Ah, I wouldn’t say that, exactly. But he did answer my contract yesterday?”

 

Starrk snorts. 

 

“Yeah, and the boss hasn’t answered a contract for anyone. Ever.”

 

Kisuke blinks, then glances over at the newly-named Ichigo, who’s simply...watching them. It’s a little unnerving, except that Starrk seems to actually relax under the other demon’s gaze, and Shinji has, apparently, joined the mad parade and sat down, tucking his hakama around his legs neatly.

 

“Why me, then? Surely it wasn’t the paltry offering I had to give?”

 

Ichigo yawns, slow and deliberate, showing off tiny fangs marring his otherwise human teeth, and then tips sideways onto Starrk, puddling the two of them together in the sunlight.

 

“No. Been offered more. But not a personal cost. Besides, you w’r interesting.”

 

He curls up more or less on top of Starrk’s legs and gives Kisuke a sleepy, imperious beckon. The mage only hesitates a second before crawling over to kneel beside the group--only to yelp as he’s dragged into the crook of Ichigo’s arm. 

 

“Sleep now. Still not healed totally. ‘N Starrk likes to cuddle.”

 

Whatever. Kisuke has no room left with which to be surprised, shocked, or otherwise horrified.

 

Starrk gives both of them a smug smirk, and runs his hands through Ichigo’s long hair.

 

“It’s not my fault that I hadn’t had any until you came along, your Majesty.”

 

Scratch that. Kisuke has plenty of room left to be surprised. 

 

“Sorry,  _ what _ ?”

  
Across the room, Shinji begins to  _ cackle _ . 


	7. Chapter 7

Kisuke's demon is a  _ king.  _ As far as Shinji knows--and he's not a summoner, he could be wrong, but he doesn't think so--there's only one of those. 

 

He should have known Kisuke would manage something like that, and completely on accident no less. It's just like the genius to summon a being with the power to destroy the earth and a complete lack of interest in actually doing so. 

 

The two demons and Kisuke are sprawled in a tangled pile of limbs in the slowly-vanishing patch of sunlight. Ichigo and Starrk both look asleep, although Shinji doubts either of them would be caught even the slightest bit off guard regardless, and Kisuke has, for once, relaxed fully. The abomination of a hat is nowhere to be found, and it makes him look younger, softer, as he rests his head on Ichigo's chest. The demon has one hand tangled in Kisuke’s hair, his other draped over the back of Starrk’s neck as he sprawls across both of them. 

 

It's heartwarming, except for the part where unrestricted demon-human interactions usually end in the death of anyone in the demon's path. 

 

Somehow, though, Shinji isn't worried about any death happening here. 

 

@@@@@@@@@@@

 

Starrk can feel the subsonic rumble in his chest, an involuntary gesture of contentment. He’s here, he’s with his king, and that’s good enough for him. The humans and mages scattered around the property aren’t particularly expected, but then again, Ichigo has  _ never _ done the expected. Starrk had known something was going to be interesting the moment Ichigo had cocked his head, listening to something only he could hear, and then vanished without a word. 

 

Harribel had just sighed, familiar with their king's antics, and waved Starrk on his way. She'd long ago decided to be grateful that it was Starrk whose job was to keep tabs on Ichigo. In comparison, she only had to run all of Hell-- and most days she legitimately thought she had the better end of that bargain. 

 

At least, Starrk had snickered to her, neither of them were stuck doing Grimm's job. 

 

Harribel had cast her eyes upward and given a fervent sigh of agreement. 

 

All things aside, however, Ichigo had still vanished into the ether in a manner remarkably similar to that of a summons, and that demanded investigation. Not that Ichigo couldn't take care of himself, of course, but if mages had figured out how to summon the king of hell, Starrk would rather know  _ before _ he started getting summoned constantly.

 

He wouldn't kill anyone, but they'd definitely be having Words about the amount of time they were able to keep Ichigo away from hell, his duties, his sisters, Starrk himself…

 

It had taken longer than he would have liked to trace down the energy signature, find what was left of the circle (which must have been incredible, from what he could make out of the shredded remnants), and follow his king to a little,  _ impossibly _ warded candy shop. Carefully, he phased around the wards and then knocked as politely as he could on the little door. No need to scare anyone, at any rate. 

 

Ichigo himself had opened the door, and Starrk didn’t have the arrogance to deny the pained little sound of relief he’d made, to be reunited with the being who’d saved him from himself. Ichigo had smiled at him, warm and human-looking, his traditional battle-armor melted away, and Starrk had slumped forward onto his shoulder with an unhappy whine. 

 

The resultant cuddles were worth  _ everything _ , and Ichigo’s new human-mage-summoner (pet?) fit so smoothly into the surrounding space that Starrk couldn't even feel jealous about sharing Ichigo-cuddles with him. His kimono still lay half open, revealing the deeply carved, still healing scars in his chest, marks made by one human on another, deliberately. No doubt that hell would _ still _ be like that, had Ichigo not torn the throne from Barragan’s cruel hands.

 

Not that anyone had ever tried to mess with Starrk, not that they had even deigned to come near him, but he'd seen it happen to others before. Intervening got him nothing but fear, but he'd tried anyway. Again and again and again, feeling a little piece of himself break with each rejection. 

 

Along the way, he'd given form to Lilinette, an undertaking he could never regret, even if it hadn't quite been the companionship he'd been searching for. 

 

No, he'd found that with Ichigo, not long before the dragon had made his bid for the throne. Even now, he sometimes wonders if the millennia of solitude are really over, if he's _ really here,  _ and not dreaming. Even Lilinette had found someone to relate to, although how Ichigo had found sisters in a place where demons simply _ became _ was beyond him. 

 

That was just Ichigo being Ichigo, though. He ate the impossible for breakfast. 

 

He also kept adopting people, so Starrk wasn't even slightly surprised, really. He, himself, had been neither the first nor the last in Ichigo's ever-growing group of companions, but he was more than happy to accept and be accepted by Ichigo's new hoard members. 

 

He knows  that the mage, Kisuke, has been adopted already. More than likely, given the stubborn, defiant glances the rest of the humans here have been giving him and Ichigo both, Kisuke will come with a small coterie of other friends. Speaking of--

 

Starrk cracks an eye and peers at the other member of the room. The blond mage sits there still, grinning like a loon, but his eyes are calculating beneath his ridiculous fringe. He’s watching all three of them, unmoving, and Starrk has been around long enough to recognize a fellow predator when he sees one. The blonde may not be hostile, not yet, but Starrk knows well enough how quickly that might change, if he saw his friend threatened.

  
Their eyes lock, but instead of looking away or being embarrassed, Starrk just flaps his hand at the other lazily, slitting his eyes in contentment, but not breaking contact. 

 

To his endless surprise and amusement, the other’s grin slips momentarily before being replaced by something much more genuine and infinitely more mischievous. The next thing he knows, Starrk has been buried under a thousand tons of hair and a dozen bony angles, drawing a pained huff of air from him as the newest cuddle-member makes himself comfortable  _ directly on top of him.  _

  
He  _ really _ should have known better. 


	8. Chapter 8

They make it out of the room. Eventually. 

 

Lisa comes to find Shinji first, poking her head cautiously through the door, rolling her eyes at the scene, and then beckoning to the blonde still on top of the pile. He cracks a lazy eye at her, doing an admirable job of pretending he’d been  _ actually _ relaxing, and then rolls off the heap of limbs without care for the brown-haired demon--Starrk--getting kneed and elbowed beneath him. That gets the whole mess shifting, and the next thing they know, both mages and both demons are wandering into the den. 

 

It’s a pretty bit of chaos, especially given that what Lisa had originally wanted to tell Shinji was that there was no way to unsummon a demon without it going of its own free will. She’s not  _ about _ to let on that they’ve been researching that, though, so she falls easily back into her old role with Shinji--nagging, scolding, and generally not communicating anything of value whatsoever. She makes a very pretty distraction, though, if she does say so herself. 

 

Kisuke actually looks like he's handling things well enough--a little shell shocked, perhaps, but otherwise alert and engaged and tentatively optimistic. Compared to the pale, silent shell that Aizen had  _ allowed  _ them to rescue, the difference is night and day. 

 

Even demons are better than that piece of scum, who knew. 

 

She's still going to treasure the memory of Aizen getting  _ devoured  _ for the rest of her existence. May his soul rot in nothingness for eternity. 

 

See, the thing is, she didn't even _ like _ Kisuke. He was too young, too brilliant, too sharp,  pushing boundaries and reinventing his entire field. Lisa herself is an evoker-- straightforward and useful. The rest of their group is an eclectic collection of the best mages in existence right now. Hiyori and Kensei are evokers, like her. Hacchi is second only to Tessai with abjuration, boundaries, and wards. Love and Rose are enchanters. No one's actually figured out what exactly Mashiro is, given that her magical style boils down to kicking people in the face, but Lisa suspects that the not-child is actually some unholy mix of enhancer and _ diviner,  _ magic save them all. Her penchant for being in exactly the right place at the wrong time, her blithe unconcern that everything will be all right, and her complete lack of fear of  _ literally everything _ \--it makes a horrifying amount of sense, if she had knowledge that they did not have access to. Even her occasional difficulties communicating could be attributed to an inability to explain things that she just _ knew.  _

 

Whatever. It's a problem for another day. 

 

Before Kisuke, though, Lisa had mostly worried about Shinji. The illusionist had taught Aizen most of what he knew, before his apprentice had gone off the rails and decided to rule the world. It's a sense of guilt she knows he still carries, and probably always will, despite their reassurances that _ it's not his fault.  _

 

He's still certain that he would have gotten the whole guild killed, trapped during Aizen's first, devastating blow, had Kisuke and his tiny party not appeared out of nowhere to break the wards trapping them. The transmuter daughter of a High Council member, Hacchi's old mentor, and the first summoner in  _ decades _ , whip-smart and easily a match for either of his companions despite his nameless heritage. 

 

Lisa is grateful, she really is, but at the time it had all seemed a little too convenient. Not that she had cared overmuch, too busy trying to drag Shinji out of his guilt-ridden fugue as the whole group had fled. 

 

When she'd asked why he'd helped them, at the beginning, Kisuke had shrugged and given her that sheepish liar's smile, the one Hiyori always tried to punch. 

 

"Ahh, Lisa-san, there was no reason, not really. We just happened to be passing by, that’s all.”

 

No matter that the wards had been adjusted to make everything seem normal from the outside, to discourage rescue attempts such as the very one that Kisuke had foiled. No matter that there had been no hesitation, no questions, no bewilderment. Tessai had attacked the wards, Yoruichi had snatched Mashiro from beneath Aizen’s blade, and Kisuke had played distraction, as everyone else fled. 

 

He played a  _ very good _ distraction. Lisa can still remember her first impression of him, wind whipping around his robes, tossing his stupid hair out of his face, eyes hard and shadowed as he rained blow after blow upon Aizen, forcing the other mage on the defensive for the first time in memory. She’s an evoker, and a damn good one, she knows her stuff, but she  _ still _ can’t tell half of the spells Kisuke used in that fight. She suspects he invented them himself--and that’s not even his specialty. 

 

In light of all that, though, her wariness for the first few months was utterly justified. She doesn’t believe in true altruism, she doesn’t trust someone who won’t tell her his intentions, and she  _ certainly _ wasn’t sure that the ridiculously-talented mage wasn’t either working with Aizen or playing his own, obscure hand against the rogue illusionist. 

 

She’d gone right on suspecting him right up until the day he held Aizen off while they were running (again), and hadn’t come back to rejoin them afterwards. Yoruichi had returned alone, her dark complexion utterly ashen, no trace of the delighted mischief that usually danced in her eyes. 

 

Aizen had him. Tessai was tracking them.

 

Lisa is not proud that she considered moving on without him, for half a second. She still hadn't been sure that the whole thing wasn't an elaborate plot between the two of them, though to what end she couldn't have said. 

 

But then Shinji was leaping for his weapons, and that was that. 

 

She regretted every bad thought she'd ever had about Kisuke, when they found him three weeks later. There had been none of the false confusion, the mocking little mannerisms. He'd been left for them to find, Lisa knows, alone in a cell that could be crossed in a single stride, magic suppressors locked around his wrists and throat. 

 

She will never forget the way he'd cowered away from them when they'd got the door open, bound hands coming up in a futile effort to ward them off. He looked horribly young, right then, young and frightened and vulnerable, Aizen's personal sigil carved into his flesh along with the deep, random carvings that were clear marks of torture. 

 

Everything had changed a little, after that. It had been the start of the real war-- which of course had started all those months ago, but hadn't really struck any of them with the gravity of the situation until then. Shinji had driven them all in training, and not heard a single objection. Tessai had vanished into the library more and more frequently, throwing himself into his research. Yoruichi appeared unaffected, but she too was seen less and less, no doubt out scouting the enemy. 

  
Kisuke himself had disappeared for three days, locking himself into his rooms, and upon reappearing had given a startlingly accurate show of normalcy. Everyone except the two who knew him best, and possibly Shinji, was relieved that he'd seemed to come through mostly unscathed. Of course, upon looking back, Lisa could see the carefully considered signs-- increased recklessness, decreased self- worth, touch shy and trigger happy. He'd managed well though, all things considered. At least, he had right up until his suicide attempt yesterday. And that's what it was, no mistake. Just because whatever he had summoned  _ hadn't _ eaten him right off didn't mean he hadn't  _ offered _ . It was only because he'd managed, somehow, to get the only uninterested demon in existence that he wasn't a devil's  _ snack _ right now. 


End file.
